Back and forth.  Slam and catch.  Throw and dive.  Jump and hug.  Life just keeps bouncing along.  You can’t just hold the ball and expect the game to stop.  There are athletes dancing all around us all the time–on computers, the street, in the bedroom next door, on the phone.

We all desperately volunteered for this game, this tournament of roses, actually.  To come to Earth, feel the rain, breathe in the rich fragrant air and take our place at the starting gate of our mother’s womb. 

Some mornings I don’t feel stretched out, trained, and prepared for the race, the weights, the new marker competing against myself.  Today I will act like it is a game of dominos–easy and fun with friends that joke and tease me whether I win or not.  We don’t keep score.  We laugh. 

Today I laugh with the Divine Domino player who lets me think I win often.

One minute up–seeing someone’s dream come true, the next minute down–recognizing my limitations.  “Surrender Dorothy!” is a phrase that keeps coming to me.  But then I eat what I shouldn’t, get lazy when I should move, indulge instead of take action.  That’s not exactly surrender though.

Letting things go isn’t the same as making decisions.  Or is it?  If I make a decision to let something go I guess that is a release.  “No” they say, “is a complete sentence.”  But saying “no” to a boss, or to my partner, doesn’t feel very powerful.  It makes me feel less than I should be.  Or is that just codependency saying “You should be all you can be all the time for everyone.”

Now THAT’s impossible, I know that much.

Today I will ride the waves of the soft rain and let the water, tears, piss, moan, yes, no, possibilities and probabilities just flow where they will flow.  I am not in charge of the river, that’s for sure.  And I trust the River Maker, Sky Painter, Earth Tender, Life Designer, as much as I trust my skin in this life.  Lucky for me I trust Her more than my life.  I claim each minute to live my life as, for and with Her, the infinitely adored, ever cherishing Rain Giver.

What is a miracle anyway?  I was talking with a friend about it.  Is it really a cause and effect chain that is just beyond our perception?  Or is it truly the “hand of God” or angels pushing us out of the way of the car?

My point is–does it matter?  Again what is it with this persistent desire for “understanding” the “why” of things?  My mom believed in elves and angels and miracles and at one point in my life I recognized that it was more FUN to believe in fantasy or angels and miracles than spending time contemplating coincidences and causal effects back to the stone age.

What does it matter really if it was just that hesitation thinking about the rain that kept me from darting out in the street and dying in front of a fast car?  Or that if I didn’t go to that party I wouldn’t have met my partner? 

The here and now needs no explanation, just an ongoing pleasure, gratitude and cherishing of what is.  Right here and right now is a miracle to me.

Stillness in the morning air.  Quiet house.  Fat cat on the couch anchoring the calm.  No storm on any horizon.  A little breeze reminding the trees to switch colors for another season coming on the wind.

All time advancing to this now.  Going nowhere and all day to be this rooted in here.

Tiny tasks tickle me, keep me bending through the day as the blushing leaves wave at me through the window.

Cherishing like a crystal this timeless moment.  Gaia sits in Her open pose basking in Her creations that surround me and include me in this brilliant garden of life.

With a heart of love, all I can see is the love inside of the world, nature, even people.  But when I am out of love with myself, when I feel empty, everyone else looks like a dark empty shell. 

Keeping full of love so that it overflows is a regular practice for this human anyways.  Seeing through violence and despair, tragedy and loss, misunderstandings and resentments as vision out of balance is a constant challenge.

Nature helps.  A broken branch isn’t a loss, it’s a change.  A natural forest fire isn’t a tragedy, it’s a big change.  A volcano blows off the top of a mountain, life seems to stop.  Then it begins again.  Cycles within small tiny cycles that grow to magnificent cycles.

If I remember that the Divine Loving Eyes are always looking at me, with the mirroring eyes of my love, I am fulfilled.

What is that Noise!?

You are precious.

You are loved.

No I’m not!

I’m never good enough.

You are beautiful and

Clever and smart.

I don’t
believe you.

Nothing I do
works.

Each cell in your body is made of stars

Brilliant burning light.

I’m keeping this basket over my head.

It’s scary out there.

I’ve got you by the hand

Everything is easy and safe.

I can’t see
you, you’re lying.

I don’t trust
you, get away.

You are walking in a forest of flowers,

Let us take a stroll through this
garden.

All you do is hide
from me.

I’m tired of
looking for you.

I’ve set a luscious feast on this table

In my home of infinite mansions.

I can’t find
my way out of the room,

Staying in bed
with covers over my head.

I’m snuggled beside you

Your every breath is cherished.

Love hurts and

The cost is
too high.

Oh Sweet One,

Your struggle with pain and sacrifice
is

Is as valuable as gold is to a camel.

That harsh noise is your heart

Screaming to grasp my gift of freedom.

Right now.

Right here.

Listen to the music and

Do the dervish

Dance!

Dance!

Dance with me!

Being human is a bother sometimes.  I get these old habits that just don’t work with a “mature” body.  So I’m faced with a choice–forge new habits, reinforce them again and again.  Or just fall back into the old patterns that stoop me over, clog my body, mess my mind.  Oh but those are so familiar and cozy–reticence, procrastination, laziness, indulgence.  Yum.

And then the waking up creaky and stiff and stupid.  It used to be the price for being young and silly.  Now it shows up as the cost of carelessness towards what has been a damn good body this round.

The Divine is in love with me, no matter what sugar I eat, bad movies I watch, lazy days of indulgent reading I spend. But there is that sweet Voice within me that wants to play on Her beautiful earth as long as possible, as clear as I can be to laugh and giggle at how She has Her Way with me.

Resting today on Mary, Isis, Athena, Gaia and Kwan Yin’s dear guiding arms.

Understanding is vastly over-rated.  Sure, getting the hang of a checkbook, investments, how to cook better and use programs, for instance, is helpful.  But do we really need to figure everything out?  I don’t think so.

There is this drive in us sometimes that says “If I can understand this, I can conquer it.”  But understanding relationships, or someone else’s behavior, or even the chemistry of cooking, rarely allows me more power in the situation.  The season, the weather, that time of month, the ionic atmosphere–and mystery–just seem to make some kind of effect on family, friends and food.  And there are so many millions of elements that can slightly affect change.

Thus I have to relax and pull back from the fierce determinism that drives me to ask more questions (interrogate my boss, actually), find out the details of what my child did, or what my friend really meant, or why that recipe didn’t work out.  I just need to get balanced myself and offer my authentic self.

“Know thyself” is an age-old popular metaphysical rule.  But it doesn’t say “understand yourself.”  The gnostic meaning of “to know” is a mystical internal recognition of the Way; a deep sense of rootedness and balance.  It is not a measurement of all elements and a statistical prediction of the next step.

I think it comes down to faith.  Faith that I am in the right place and this “now” is most excellent.  If I stay with the Divine “here and now,” there truly is nothing to “figure out”.

I was thinking that’s what humans are, after all–Love plus mud.  HA.  We are the inspirational thought of the Divine cloning itself–along with all sorts of game rules like FORGETTING that completely.  Then She dove into the beautiful mud of this planet, and covered with wonderful slime, called Herself me–and you–and all of us.

So here we are sometimes, throwing mud at each other, screaming and yelling and giggling and sighing and even pretending to drown.

As I hear the soft soothing rain falling, I breathe in the memory of how wonderful and idea it was to become me as Her here.  I’m off to wiggle my toes in the mud.

I like to think of this human experience as a game.  Perhaps competition against myself.  My best time as a human, or best game so far as a human.  I mean, is there a human who hasn’t played or watched a game played?

World Cup, Stanley Cup, Olympics, dice, dominos, runes, cards, chance.  From prehistoric natives to the royal rich in skyscrapers, there are games.  And certainly each one of us have played games with each other or again, saw them played against each other: war, terror, manipulations, buy-outs, gossip.  Even good games: rituals, coming of age, birthday parties, weddings and funerals.

So my life, rather than a lesson handed to me by a terse teacher, is arranged by a master of the court, the producer of the games.  She sets the stage, provides the balls, opens up this astounding court called Earth.  In fact, She is my coach, cheering from the sidelines and today, when I catch my breath between strokes, I glance within and see Her applauding me.